Transitions
by Sinom Bre
Summary: A series of three connected vignettes showing changes in the interpersonal relationships of the Griffyndor Trio. Written several years ago, just after GoF hit the shelves. Reviews are not required but appreciated.


_**TRANSITIONS**_

A _Harry Potter_ Fanfiction  
by  
Sinom Bre

The characters of the _Harry Potter_ novels are the property of J.K. Rowling and Scholastic Press. This work of fanfiction is in no way intended to infringe upon those rights. No compensation has been or will be received for the composition of this work—it is for free entertainment purposes only.

This was written some years ago, just after _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_ hit the shelves, so it's not current with the canon beyond book IV. A friend of mine has been hounding me for much of the time since GoF to post this, so I finally caved. Please enjoy.

I've given Ron Weasley a bit of a hard time in this fic, so I apologize to Ron fans in advance. Additionally, please excuse my fake Latin for some of the spells.

* * *

**- - - - - I - - - - -**

He found her in a place he knew to be one of her favorite thinking spots, on a rampart connecting two of the Hogwarts castle towers. She leaned on one of the up-thrust stone squares, looking out over the school grounds as a stiff chilly breeze fanned her long brown hair out behind her. The sweeping lawn, the lake, the Quidditch field, and the edge of the Forbidden Forest and its inscrutable treetops marching to the horizon provided a breathtaking view from on high, regardless of weather, or sometimes because of the weather.

"Hello... Fancy meeting you here." Harry Potter stepped up beside her and rested his elbows on the wall.

"Hi, Harry. Avoided Filch and Mrs. Norris, I see."

He laughed. "For the moment, but I'm sure one of them'll find us up here sooner or later, and then Filch'll run us off."

Hermione Granger frowned and shook her head. "I don't understand that man... This isn't a restricted area, and it's not like we're about to chuck it all and leap from the wall!"

They both, of course, knew the answer to that question, but it was Ron Weasley who had first proposed that the cause of Filch's bitterness at the students was because he was a Squib, a non-magical person born to a wizarding family. The point was not verbalized because Ron was a painful topic for one of them this day. Harry sighed, wrenched his mind back to current matters, and turned to face Hermione. "Do you feel like talking about it?"

Casting her gaze down to the stone in front of her, Hermione bit her lip. "Harry... Am I a bad person?"

He started and blinked. "What?! No! Why do you ask?"

"I don't know... I just wonder... Haven't we all changed since fourth year? I mean, haven't we grown up some? Or just... grown... at all?"

"Sure... I guess."

She finally turned and pinned him with an eye. "_All_ of us?"

Harry squirmed and scuffed his feet. "Look, he just needs more time, Hermione. Not everyone, er, grows at the same speed... And there's Percy, of course."

"He's back and hovering at fourteen, Harry!" she almost shouted, her voice more harsh than she'd intended. She realized it, and closed her eyes and slumped. "Sorry... Oh, hell. _Listen_ to me, going on like I've a clue." She hit the stone rampart with her fist.

Wincing, he reluctantly nodded. "Well, it's not all that bad... Ron, he..." Harry sighed and gave up on his mitigation of the facts. "I know, but... Well... Maybe it is that bad. I don't know what to say... It's not something you can wave your wand and fix. The Weasleys still haven't gotten over Percy's death, really, and Ron... took it harder than I thought he would, harder than the rest, even his mother." Pushing aside his sympathetic pain and frustration for the Weasleys for the moment, he looked back out over the Hogwarts grounds. "So what are you going to do, Hermione?"

She grunted in a most unfeminine fashion. "Oh, aye, there's the _real_ question. What's _Hermione_ going to do?" she said bitterly. "Not what Ronald Weasley's going to do, because they already know that—_nothing!_"

"Hermione! That's a bit harsh."

"Yes, but can you deny it?! When Percy died, Ron went backwards! I mean, I could've understood it if it had only been a few months or even a year, but he's stuck, Harry! And I... I can't... I can't get through to him anymore, nothing I do _works!_ And... And I'm so..." Her voice faltered to a whisper. "...ever so tired..." She trailed off, looked at the view again, and then slowly bent over the wall, gazing straight down at the ground some 150 feet below.

"Voldemort has a lot to answer for," Harry muttered darkly, still thinking of Percy Weasley.

Hermione passed by his statement and continued in her previous vein. "I sometimes think that _Ron_ thinks that if he can't fix it as an adult, or almost adult, he'll just stay a child... so it doesn't touch him... He won't have to look inside, deal with the pain... ... Oh, bloody bleeding hell. I don't know anything anymore, I think." She leaned a little further over the edge.

Harry took her by the arms and gently pulled her back. "I think I _really_ wish you were more afraid of heights..."

"Oh, that's rich, coming from Mr. Quidditch himself." However, Hermione smiled weakly at him to show that she was only joking.

"Ah... Right. When you fall enough times, you learn a healthy respect for being up high."

She laughed, and then stopped, her breath halted as if her throat had been cut. Hermione put a hand against the stone and kept her head lowered to recover from nearly breaking down—the release of her humor had almost become the release of her misery. Harry kept his eyes on the scenic view to give her the illusion of privacy, and she rejoined him once she was steady. Soon, however, their gazes were caught by the sight of a tiny man striding across the grounds to the school, trying to push off a beast that was rubbing her face against his.

"GEROFF ME, HAZEL!!" Hagrid's booming yell was reduced to a faint voice at the height from which Harry and Hermione listened, paralleling the visual reduction in Hagrid's enormous physical size. The beast in question was none other than the Tri-Wizard Sphinx, whose riddle Harry'd had to solve during the tournament three years earlier. Its owner had donated the beast to the school for learning purposes, and Hazel, as the beast was named, had become the darling of the students. So long as she had no treasure to guard or riddle to present, she was as gentle as a lamb, and fussed over and mothered the first- and second-year kids. She had also taken a more ardent fancy to the Gameskeeper and teacher of the Care of Magical Creatures classes.

"Poor H-Hagrid," Hermione said, giggling hoarsely.

"Poor Hazel, I reckon. Her love, forever unrequited." Harry had a good chortle out of that, but Hermione's mood soured at his turn of phrase as Hagrid and Hazel slowly moved out of view.

"Harry..."

"Hmmm?" He had closed his eyes at some point, lost in the experience of the bracing wind on his face.

"I'm going to break it off with Ron, tonight... after dinner."

"Oh, blimey..." He sighed and opened his eyes. "Oh, bloody hell..."

"You've been very good to him these last two years, and for that I'm grateful. Be there for him again, won't you?" she asked, a pleading note in her voice. Her eyes were watery.

"Sure... Of course."

"Thank you, Harry. If I could, I'd be there for him, too, but... after today... I... don't..." She burst into tears and gently huddled against Harry, burying her face in his chest and sobbing. Feeling awkward, he put his arms around her and simply held her. She didn't cry for long, but seemed reluctant to move from his arms, and she surprised him by slipping her own arms around his torso and holding tight.

Harry felt a tingling surge of emotion through his body, but he ignored it as best he could, concentrating on stroking her head of long, bushy brown hair. On the rare times that he'd had occasion to touch her hair, it always surprised him with its softness. The mixed fragrance of some kind of herbal shampoo and Hermione's natural musk proved a bit dizzying, which caught him off-guard and reminded him of unworthy thoughts he'd occasionally... no, _often_ entertained concerning his best friend's girl, but he glossed it over with a quip.

"You have a lovely do, old thing."

Hermione laughed into his shirt and finally pulled away, wiping at her eyes with the backs of her hands. "Oh, you say the nicest things and at the oddest moments... Or is the other way 'round?" She croaked another laugh.

Harry rubbed one of her arms. "All right, then?"

"Yes... I'll be fine, but I think I'll risk Filch a bit longer and stay up here for a little while."

"Sure?"

"Yes."

"No flying without brooms?"

She squeezed his arm. "No, but thanks for worrying about it anyway."

Harry hesitated for a second, and then leaned over and kissed Hermione softly on the forehead. He seemed to hover a little too long in place. "It'll all work out, Hermione."

She quelled the surge of feeling his lips caused. "Thanks, Harry."

He smiled and nodded, and then walked off towards one of the archways into the nearest tower. If he'd chanced to glance back, however, he would've been hard pressed to mistake the look of intense and heartfelt longing on Hermione's face as she watched him move away.

** **

In the Gryffindor common room that evening, Harry watched Hermione pensively approach the table where Ron sat, examining his action figure of the hot new Seeker for the Chudley Cannons as it pranced around the tabletop. In light of his conversation with Hermione on the castle battlements, the picture Ron presented took on fresh meaning. Perhaps poor Ron really had frozen himself a child.

Harry had enjoyed Ron's action figure of Viktor Krum back during the Quidditch World Cup, but Harry had actually _been_ a child at the time, or close enough to one as not to matter. Now, he had no desire to purchase action figures, much less play with them, and if he'd been Ron, Chudley fan or no, he would've long since taken down the riot of orange Chudley Cannons paraphernalia that still covered almost every square inch of Ron's bedroom in the Weasley home.

Hermione sat down at Ron's table, obviously tense from her ramrod straight posture and the state of her hands, clasping and unclasping in her lap. Harry could see his two best friends talking, and then a look of utter disbelief and shock settled on Ron's face. Hermione said a few more words, and Ron's mouth worked silently. She said one more thing, waited for at least two minutes for an answer, and when one didn't seem to be forthcoming, she shook her head, rose, and hurried away towards the stairway to the women's dormitory. She had a hand over her mouth, and her eyes were moist and pricking.

_That's my cue._ As Harry walked over to a frozen Ron Weasley, he noticed Ginny Weasley rise and follow Hermione up the stairway, shooting Harry an acknowledging glance on the way. _Good show, Gin._

"Hey, Ron. All right?" He received no answer, so Harry sat down and waited him out, passing the time by poking disinterestedly at the Seeker figure, which scowled back up at him. It would prove to be a long, trying, and painfully silent evening, as Ron could only seem to concentrate on the annoyed figurine.

The remainder of their seventh year would be little different.

* * *

**- - - - - II - - - - -**

The Three Broomsticks was hopping this Saturday evening in February, and Hermione Granger, employee of the Ministry of Magic for the United Kingdom, fresh out of her probationary hiring period, stepped through the door and was met by a wall of sound. A group of local wizards and witches had gotten together into an informal band, and a large section of the floor had been cleared for dancing. Hermione pushed her way through the throng towards the bar and luckily grabbed a stool just as a couple left to dance. Madam Rosmerta sidled over to her, grinning widely—the pub was taking in Galleons, hand over fist, which equated to better earnings for the owner-proprietor.

"Hello, dear!" Rosmerta shouted over the din. "Hermione, wasn't it?!"

"Yes, thank you!" Hermione shouted back. "How are you, Madam Rosmerta?!"

"Wonderful, dear! Haven't seen you since last graduation! What can I get for you?!"

"A butterbeer, please, but say, have you seen Harry Potter?!"

"Harry?! Why, dear, he's half the reason my little establishment has been doing so well!" By way of explanation, she pointed out to the center of the dance floor before moving off to fill Hermione's order.

Hermione craned her neck and saw Harry, dancing with a beautiful young witch, who seemed to be composed of nothing but luscious curves and long, flowing black hair. She then noticed a group of young witches on one side of the room, whispering and giggling and staring longingly at the dashing young wizard. Hermione couldn't help herself from smirking. _Poor Harry... All queued up and no place to run._

She watched Harry dance for a moment, remembering how reluctant he and Ron Weasley had been to find a date for the Yule Ball during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Harry, at least, had come a long way. _That was uncalled-for, Hermione Granger!_ she chided herself.

Sighing, she refocused on Harry and his partner, but her eyes narrowed as she now took note of how unashamedly the girl was dancing, if you could call it that. The girl's blouse was unbuttoned too far and showed an impressive amount of cleavage, or perhaps just too much breast in general. The style of her dancing seemed to require a great deal of rubbing of the hands over one's body, and when she started applying the same technique to Harry, Hermione saw red, and her vision funneled to a pinpoint.

_Little tart! Just wait, girlfriend. All that boob is going straight to fat. Wouldn't be so eager to grope him if you were as wide as you were tall—_

A scream from the dance floor broke Hermione out of her red haze, and she saw Harry's partner floating towards the ceiling, her body having ballooned till she was literally as wide as she was tall. Harry stood underneath her, shading his eyes and looking up, a slight smirk gracing one corner of his mouth.

"Oops!" Hermione put her hand over mouth, snickering, and hunkered down so as not to be seen. "Haven't lost control like that since... Well, I never have." She couldn't find it in herself to be sorry, but someone had noticed, however.

Rosmerta sidled up to her again, an evil grin on her face. "I remember you better now," she said at a normal volume—the band had stopped playing while the girl was being pulled from the ceiling. "You were part of Harry's little group at Hogwarts." She handed Hermione her butterbeer. "And because of _that_," she pointed to the floating, ballooned girl, "someone's still carrying a torch, I'll wager."

Her face burning red, Hermione opened her butterbeer and sipped. "Um..."

Laughing, Rosmerta said, "Don't worry. That little piece of pudding on the ceiling has had it coming for a while now. She's been hounding our Harry ever since he took a room in Hogsmeade." She smirked again at Hermione's sudden scowl. "I was right. You ARE carrying a torch for him. Well, best of luck, dearie. He's the most eligible bachelor this town's seen since his father and Sirius Black were here, breaking hearts twenty years ago, but... I think you might have the best shot of any. I hear good things about the Ministry's newest wiz kid..." Chuckling and winking, Rosmerta sashayed to the other end of the bar to welcome some older wizards that had just arrived.

She hadn't given Hermione the chance to respond, which was just as well; Hermione was speechless, but she glanced back at the dance floor before concentrating on her butterbeer again. _Yes,_ she mused, _'our' Harry probably_ is _the most eligible bachelor for miles._

She and Harry had kept in touch since leaving Hogwarts—at least a letter by owl from one to the other per week. Harry had stayed in the area because Albus Dumbledore had agreed to work with him for a year or so in Advanced Magic. Harry had confided to her in one of his letters that he wanted the chance to learn directly from the great wizard while he was still alive, and there wasn't any better time than now. Sirius had agreed wholeheartedly, Harry had said, so he'd rented a guesthouse from an elderly couple in Hogsmeade and spent part of his day studying with— She jumped when a hand landed on her shoulder.

"Well, hello, stranger." A grinning Harry Potter took the stool next to Hermione, which had been kindly surrendered by its occupant. "I don't remember you writing to tell me you were coming. Is everything all right?"

"Hi, Harry." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Yes, everything's fine. This was just a... spur-of-the-moment thing."

He grinned at her. "Brilliant! I was thinking of visiting you soon at the Ministry anyway." He flagged Rosmerta down and ordered a soda water. "So how's old Fudge treating you?"

"I honestly never run into him." She raised an eyebrow, anticipating Harry's reaction to her next statement. "He's usually out and about, pressing flesh and soaking up credit for Peter Pettigrew, Dark Mark and all, turning up alive from that one raid."

Harry scowled heavily. "Bloody great official git," he muttered. "Had nothing to do with it, Fudge."

"Bitterness doesn't become you, Harry," she chided. "Besides, it let Sirius off the hook, and that's all that matters."

He relaxed. "Yeah, I suppose you're right about that."

They took a moment to watch a collection of people haul the blown-up balloon of a girl out of the Three Broomsticks and probably over to the local wizard's physician. The band struck up another tune, and Hermione noticed the group of girls starting to migrate Harry's way.

"Your fan club approaches," she said, smirking.

"WONderful." Harry rolled his eyes. "Want to meet somewhere? Get away from this lot?"

"Sure. Your place?"

Harry winced. "No. Someone knocks on the door almost every five minutes, I think. At least in the pub, it's not entirely on their terms," he said rather cryptically.

_What did he mean by that?_ Hermione wondered.

"Here, remember where we first came to Hogsmeade to meet Sirius? The stile just outside of town?"

"Of course."

"I'll be there in half an hour, and we can take a walk or something." He looked over his shoulder and sighed, noticing that his 'fan club' was almost upon him. "It'll take me at least that long to get away." He rose and moved off, saying, "See you in a bit."

As she finished the last of her butterbeer, Hermione watched Harry chatting with his 'club'. There was no mistaking the gleams in the women's eyes. Hogsmeade was a nice town, but certainly not the center of things if you were eighteen or so, and Harry presented a ticket out that was hard to resist. He might not have position now, but he was, after all, _Harry Potter_, the "boy who lived," and he had more than once proved to be the biggest thorn in Voldemort's side. He'd also managed his inheritance fairly well, she mused pleasantly to herself, allowing the Gringotts financial advisory goblins to make some investments on his behalf, which were now starting to pay off rather well. A tidy nest egg (or dare she say "dowry"?) polished him up quite nicely for husband-hungry young women.

Amused at her own turn of mind, Hermione finished her beer, left payment on the counter, and departed the pub, intending to kill the half hour with a short stroll around the village shops.

She ended up waiting at the stile an additional half hour before Harry finally showed, and then it was a shock because his voice came out of thin air. "Sorry I'm late." Hermione jumped, and then Harry appeared, slipping out from under the invisibility cloak that he'd inherited from his father.

"Take a year off my life, why don't you?" she sniffed.

He chuckled as he folded and stuffed his cloak into a fanny pack. "Oh, come on! You spent enough time under it, as well... The 'club' was especially clingy tonight, and I, er, 'disappeared' from the men's toilet."

Hermione sighed wistfully, thinking back to their adventures in Hogwarts. "Those were fun times, weren't they, Harry?"

Motioning her onto a path through the surrounding woods, he said, "Yeah. Sometimes I miss how simple things were in those days."

They strolled slowly, their footfalls muffled on a carpet of needles. "Those words are beyond our years, Harry. What do you mean?"

They both had their hands clasped behind their backs, and Harry was watching the ground as he walked. "Oh, there's always Voldemort, but that's not all, I guess... I mean, that whole scene back in the bar. Tell me, old thing, when did I become prime husband material?" He barked a strange laugh.

"Oh, Harry... You've always been that."

He looked up at her in surprise, and she stuttered through her next words. "Ch-Cho knew it, Ginny knew it, your 'club' knows it, and—" Her mouth had automatically opened again, but she snapped it shut, cutting off whatever she'd been about to say in favor of something tangential but related. "You're kind, Harry. That's what draws them."

"Hmmm... Maybe I should start being mean or something. Hateful, perhaps?" The airiness of his tone belied his words.

"Bollocks! You don't have a mean bone in your body."

Harry laughed aloud, and they continued down the path, simply enjoying each other's company.

"What did you mean back in the bar when you said 'not entirely on their terms'?" Hermione asked after a while.

"Are we still on that topic?"

"Answer the question," she said primly.

He leaned over and bumped her with his shoulder in a friendly fashion. "It's smashing to see you, Hermione."

She smiled. "Thank you, Harry. Now answer the question, and no more evasions."

"Ah, a hard case, I see. Um... Let's just say that I'm safer in groups than alone with any of them and leave it at that."

"Especially with blimp girl, I'll warrant."

"Ah... Quite," he said, coughing.

She turned her head and peered up at him. "Oooo, that had undertones."

Harry pursed his lips. "You do remember that cheering charm lesson you slept through when you were using the Time Turner, right?" She nodded. "Well, let's just say there are charms for other, certain kinds of, er, drives, as well, ones you don't find in textbooks, ones good witches, like yourself, aren't likely to know right off... Ahem!"

Not standing for his evasiveness and feeling a little giddy from the gossip, Hermione managed to squeeze the story out of him. Mirabel, the girl's name, had invited Harry to go swimming, but after they arrived, he found out that she'd neglected to pack her swimsuit, which had no impact whatsoever on her intention to swim. It was in the midst of his paddling across the pond that she, completely nude, slipped both a lust charm and herself on him. Nature, with a little magical help, ran its course.

Alarmed that Hermione wasn't finding anything the least bit amusing in the anecdote and further alarmed at her dimly visible scowling face, which seemed to have no connection with embarrassment, he hurriedly said, "But I've since learned the counter, not that she's been happy about that."

Hermione didn't relax and considered her words before speaking. "You... took her virtue, Harry. Will you two be... er..."

"Ha! No, look, I didn't take her virtue. Someone else managed that some years ago, and I don't think she's looked back since. There was nothing, er, binding in what happened, and I was really quite vexed with her about the charm. Believe me, aside from the dancing, I keep her at arm's length. She's _really_ annoyed about that, but I told her she'd taken my choice away from me. Truth to say, she took _my_ virtue, in a sense." He paused. "The only saving grace is that the charm kept me from remembering much about it—it's all quite foggy. Bit of a disappointment, that, but..."

Seeming to relax, Hermione smiled up at him again, and Harry was finally forced to wonder. "Hermione... Why were you getting angry about that?"

"I wasn't getting angry," she said offhandedly.

"Right, and I'm the Queen of Hogwarts."

She huffed and softly said, "Harry, you are such a _git_ about some things."

Startled, he wondered what she'd meant. "Enlighten me."

A turn in the path revealed a park bench looming in the darkness, fronting a small meadow in the woods, and Hermione said, "Let's sit."

"Sure." He noticed that she acted nervous and uncertain, not a state he was accustomed to associating with her. When she sat, she fussed with her clothes for a time, distracted. He decided not to push her, and merely watched.

Hermione had blossomed into a stunning young woman. She was svelte and trim, and her bushy hair, for which she'd often been teased in school, served her well when she had decided to let it grow out, giving volume where the weight of it would have otherwise pulled it flat against her head. And, of course, she was probably the smartest person Harry knew, other than Dumbledore and some of the other professors at Hogwarts. The Ministry of Magic had wasted no time in snapping her up, and Hermione was currently wandering from department to department, trying to find her niche and always leaving them far better than she'd found them.

"See Ron much?"

He jumped, her sudden question jolting him out of his musings. "Uh, yeah, pretty often. He was supposed to broom up this weekend, but his plans got changed—I guess you, er, lucked out, there. You do know he auditioned and was signed onto the reserve team for the Chudley Cannons?"

"A dream come true for him..." She fussed with her skirt again.

Harry studied her and considered his words. "He's much better now, you know... Not one hundred percent, but better." She didn't respond, so he pushed a little harder. "Any spark still there?"

She ignored him. "See anyone else from our class much?"

Resigning himself to the fact that you couldn't push a woman to speak her mind, or heart, until she was damned good and ready, he said, "Ummm... Dean broomed through about two months ago, on his way to see Seamus. We knocked back a couple of butterbeers. He's joining Bill in curse breaking for Gringotts."

"Oh, that's interesting!"

"Yeah... Let's see... Well..." He shifted around, uncomfortable. "Cho came to see me about a month ago."

Hermione had stopped moving completely. "And?" she said, not quite succeeding at sounding casual.

Harry cocked an eye at her, but went on to say, "She invited me to spend a month with her in China. Some big Chinese wizard to-do, and a lot of her family were going to be there."

"I see... Since we're here talking, I assume you said no."

"That's right." He leaned over and put his elbows on his knees, resting his chin in his hands, and didn't say anything more.

The tone of his voice had been troubled, and Hermione rested a hand on his back, rubbing slightly. "What?"

He let out the breath he'd been partially holding. "She stuck around about a week, actually, and... just before she left... she, ah... she proposed to me."

"Oh, bloody hell, she didn't! How awkward."

Laughing ruefully, he said, "Oh, you've no idea. It was just so strange and unexpected, but she told me why, actually, a little later, and this bit was sad. Her parents are going to arrange a marriage for her if she doesn't find someone and soon. I got the impression they hadn't wanted to give her any time at all. Very traditional Asian family and all that, even if they are wizards... or maybe more so _because_ they're wizards. I don't know. Very clanny bunch, I gathered.

"Cho was scared, and she figured if there was anyone her elders might approve of, it would be me." He sat up and ran his hand back through his hair. "And you know what? I felt so bad for her I almost said yes. I've fancied Cho, more or less, off and on, but you know that, and she's as great as she ever was. Almost said yes... but..."

"But?"

He seemed to remember with whom he sat. "Ah, nothing. Never mind."

She let it go, feeling that further questions would be genuinely unwelcome, and she usually only did push when she knew that someone _wanted_ to talk about it. Instead, she leaned back against the bench and stretched her arms into the air. "Do you know what today is?"

"Errr... Saturday?"

Chuckling, she said, "You great prat," but her amusement died. "No," she said quietly, "one year ago today, to the day, you and I had a talk on top of Hogwarts castle, and that evening..."

Harry nodded. "Ah... Okay, I remember that."

"Yes, I thought you might. But..."

"But?"

She leaned over and gave him a friendly bump with her shoulder. "Simply smashing to see you, Harry."

"Ha. Ha. That's my diversion, and you can't have it."

"Spoilsport." They shared a chuckle. "You know, Harry, I feel bad for Cho, but... I'm glad you didn't say yes."

She paused, and he felt a tension growing in his stomach. "Ah... Why is that?"

"Well, you see... I didn't... tell you, um... everything that day."

He turned on the bench to face her and rested one arm on the backrest, putting his head against his fist, trying to appear casual and largely failing, especially since it was dark and all anyone had to go on was his tense voice. "Oh?"

"Er, no... You see... ... ... ... Oh, bother!"

"Just spit it out, Granger." A nervous smile laced his words.

She risked a glance and a small smile at him, all but invisible in the night, but she quickly looked away. "I guess I started, um, falling out of love with Ron during our sixth year. That's when I first noticed that he wasn't... pacing the rest of us very well, if you follow me."

Harry nodded in the darkness.

"I always hate thinking about that because it makes me out to be shallow or something. But Harry, I... Even when two people grow apart, at least they're growing, and Ron..." She rubbed her legs through her skirt. "I did love him, you know, but it was a young, fragile thing, and it didn't survive the problems."

A warm hand squeezed her arm, and she felt a tingling jolt run through her body. "I'm not blaming you for anything," he said, "and I don't think you are shallow. We were young... Well, younger, and these things happen."

"Thank you, Harry," she said mistily, "but there's more."

His hand retreated so she could continue, but Hermione was sorry to see it go.

"You see, while I was falling out of love, I, er... was also falling _in_ love... with someone else, someone who was kind and generous with his friend when his friend was having a long, bad time of it. A handsome fellow, a powerful wizard, and with a bigger heart than I seemed to have at the time, but I knew he wouldn't return my... feelings... because of... friendship." She noticed that Harry had grown very still, and she just couldn't bring herself to say any more. The night insects chirped, buzzed, and clicked, and the occasional hunting Nighthawk cried in the darkness. Whippoorwills called distantly, and once, she thought she heard the chittering of a bat.

"You know," Harry said, finally breaking the silence, "I was always a little jealous of old Ron. I used to think to myself, 'That Hermione, she's the best. Ron's a lucky fellow.' I have ever since hoped that I'd meet someone like you, but you're a hard act to follow. That lot in Hogsmeade, while they're mostly very nice, just don't really compare."

She was blushing furiously, although Harry couldn't see it in the dark. And for that, she was thankful. "I, er..."

"And you shouldn't be so hard on yourself. My friendship with Ron didn't, or rather, doesn't, carry the same responsibilities as yours did." He breathed in and out, once. "So what are you trying to say, Hermione? I don't want any uncertainty in this, for all sorts of reasons."

"I... I... ..."

He didn't make a quip or urge her on, but he sat on pins and needles, all the same, slowly taking air into his lungs without thinking about it.

Hermione quietly steeled herself, and then said in a soft voice that carried nonetheless, "I love you, Harry... Since end of sixth year."

Harry let out the large breath he'd gathered, and then laughed shakily. "Cor, I thought that was where you were going! I... Wow!"

His breathing was fast, and she could hear it, but the ensuing silence stretched interminably, and to the breaking point for Hermione—her heart fell into her shoes. She stood abruptly. "Harry, if you're trying to think of a way to let me down easy, I just want to—"

He gently took hold of her arm, hesitated, and then pulled her into his lap, holding her firmly in place. "Do shut up, Hermione, and give me a bit to find words for everything going through my head right now."

Sitting rigidly in his lap, she nodded twice. His hands were clasped on the top of her outer hip, and he was quiet just long enough for her to begin to enjoy his touch. But his silence was again a growing weight, and Hermione began to believe that he was going to say he only wanted her friendship.

"I can't say that I love you that way," Harry began, and Hermione's heart shattered. A tear ran down her cheek. "But I cannot count the times I'd wished I'd had a go at you. Of course, there was... Ron, and even after you two quit, things were really uncomfortable, those last months before graduation."

Hermione was now confused. "What..." She cleared her throat. "What are you trying to say, Harry? You're the one sounding uncertain."

"Sorry... I'm saying I want to have a go... if you're willing."

The scenario hadn't played out as Hermione had hoped or had even considered. "Um... Okay." She sniffled.

He chuckled nervously. "I'm not being terribly romantic, am I?"

"Not really..." she said, but laughed a little.

"Right, then... Let's try this. I was standing in the middle of the dance floor, looking around to see who might've hexed Mirabel, and then I saw you, hunkered down at the bar. Of course, I knew right away who'd done the hex."

"Oh, dear... You must think me awful. I've never lost control like that before."

"I thought it was brilliant!" He laughed again. "Besides... it shows me how you're really feeling in a way words can't."

"Oh, Harry..." she whispered.

"Anyway, I saw you, and suddenly... everything was okay. Hermione's here. I felt... really right for the first time since we graduated."

"Harry..."

"I... Oh, dear. Look, old thing, I think what I've been doing is trying to find another Hermione Granger all along. You've always been a part of my life, and when we went our separate ways... Just seeing you today is the best thing to happen to me since I found out I was a wizard."

"Oh, go on, you," she said. She really couldn't see him very well anymore — he was all blurry.

"See here. Ask me how I feel about you in a week, and I know... I _know_ I'll have fallen for you."

"Harry," she said softly.

"And I think I'd better shut me gob before I completely ruin the moment."

"Har— MMF!"

He was kissing her, and her surprise held her immobile for a second, but then she let go and kissed him back, and oh, it was better than any spell could've made, better than she'd dreamed. Their mouths opened, tongues tentatively jousting and growing more skillful and eager with each pass. Hermione moaned into his mouth as her heart raced and the tingling that started deep in her belly spread throughout her body, and before she knew it, her hands were wandering all over him, her hormones pushing and prodding.

He caressed her back, and as his hands would dip down towards her rear, she would rise a little, encouraging him. He finally caught the hint, hesitated, and then cupped one of her buttocks, squeezing gently, his fingers digging in next to and distantly tugging at her most sensitive parts. The rush of chemicals through her system, stimulated by that intimate touch, was heady and dizzying. This was Harry feeling her up, and she'd dreamt about it for almost two years. She groaned and opened her legs, straddling him, her skirt bunching up around her hips, and kissed him more vigorously.

She realized a moment later what she'd done, and some distant part of her formidable mind still able to process rational thought considered the fact that since Harry was male, there was no way she could properly impress upon him the significance of a woman allowing a man between her legs, in a chaste way or otherwise. It required incredible trust and feeling for the man... and desire, but the trust was all-important. Yes, this was Harry, and she trusted him implicitly. She loved him.

The control of her body was slipping to her more animal drives, and when she felt a length of hardness in his trousers pressing high against her inner thigh, she shivered and involuntarily shifted herself so that the hollow of her panties rode the stiffness. Another heady blast shot up her body, blinding her brain with echoes of promised lightning.

For his part, Harry wasn't in much better shape. He'd held women before, in one kind of circumstance or another, but it had never been so... mind-blowing as this. Had he been harboring such deep desire for this woman for so long? When she ground herself against the increasingly uncomfortable erection, he almost fainted from the accompanying sensations.

He broke the kiss and held her close, nuzzling her hair. It smelled of some fruity shampoo, but it most strongly smelled of Hermione. The drug of her musk and the feel of her body against his went straight to his hindbrain, which began issuing orders to his body that were becoming increasingly difficult to ignore, not that he necessarily wanted to.

"Hermi— Mmmm." She stopped his speech with another attempt at exploring his mouth, but again, he pulled away from her at the next opportunity. "How far do you want this to go?" he rasped. She was still almost unconsciously grinding against him, and her half-lidded eyes were dazed. "Hermione."

"...what... ...?"

"Are you entirely in control of your faculties, dear?"

Her eyes snapped wide open. "What?! Um..."

Harry laughed out loud. "Well, at least I know how to get your attention when necessary."

"Beast," she muttered.

He kissed her lightly a couple of times. "What I wanted to know," he said huskily, "is how far are you, er..." Harry didn't quite know how to put to her that she was still, even now, rhythmically moving her body against his in a very distracting fashion. He took hold of her hips and pushed and pulled in time with her while watching her face. The realization that sprang into her eyes and the concomitant expression on her face were almost comic.

"Oh, GOD! HARRY! You must think me a right TART!" She tried to crawl off of his lap, but he put his arms around her and pulled her into an embrace.

"HAHA! I rather like the idea of you as a tart—"

"AH!"

"—but no, I don't think that about you." He laughed. "Come on, Hermione!"

She leaned against him, burying her face in his shoulder. "I... lost control of myself again. You're a bad influence on me, Harry Potter."

"I wouldn't mind always being a bad influence on you, as long as you're only a tart for me..."

"Oh, Harry..."

He held her for a time, and then said, "I was a little, er, well... _afraid_, just now. I didn't want you to... do something you'd be, er, uncomfortable with later and then... not like me anymore."

What little bit of herself she'd been holding back let go, and she completely relaxed against him. "Thank you, Harry. I could probably say that I wouldn't have stopped you, but it is a bit much without even one date between us."

He chuckled. "Point."

She pulled back and propped her arms on his shoulders, looking down into his upturned face. His eyes shone in the faint light of the stars, and she imagined that she could only just make out the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. "When... Ahem! When that metaphorical week you were talking about is over... you won't have to stop."

"Hermione..."

As her head lowered again, they were startled by something whooshing overhead. Harry instantly pulled Hermione against him, his wand appeared in his hand, and promptly, every hair on Hermione's body stood on end—Harry was emitting an aura of power she'd sensed with one other person only, and that was Albus Dumbledore. _What has he been_ studying _up there?_

A hoot from overhead echoed in the small meadow, and Harry relaxed. "Oh, bloody hell. It's only Hedwig. Come down, old girl!"

Harry's Snowy Owl fluttered down and perched on the backrest of the bench, raising one leg and holding it out.

"_Lumos._" A note was attached to her leg. "Hello. What's this?" Hermione took his wand while he unfastened the note, opened it, and they both read:

-

_Harry,_

_Won't you join me for a late breakfast tomorrow? I've just received Nicholas Flamel's library from his estate, and there are some books I think you will find of interest, especially in matters of animagus transformations. By the way, his wife is still doing well, but expects to pass within the next month. Apparently, she did better by the last bits of potion than old Nick, so she's taking care of last minute matters._

_Oh, and do invite Miss Granger along. It would be nice to see her again._

_Albus Dumbledore_

-

Harry laughed; he could practically read the twinkle in the old wizard's eyes in between the lines. "As Mrs. Weasley is fond of saying, 'That man doesn't miss a trick.' Hmmm, I don't have a quill on me..."

Hermione rummaged in her purse and pulled out a ballpoint pen. Harry took it, and raised an eyebrow at her. "A Muggle pen? Consider yourself fallen into disgrace."

She gave him a friendly thump on the arm. "Quills and ink bottles are rarely convenient outside the office."

He laughed again and penned a quick response, indicating that they would be there at ten. He folded the note and tied it back on Hedwig's leg. "Take this back to the Headmaster, and there'll be double treats for you later, and I'll save you a bit of bacon from the school."

Hedwig nibbled his arm to show her love, and then flapped three times to land on Hermione's shoulder. The owl nibbled her ear affectionately before taking off into the darkness.

"Oh, ah, well, Hedwig approves, so it must be official... We, old thing, are an item."

"Oh, Harry... Truly?"

For his answer, he simply kissed her.

* * *

**- - - - - III - - - - -**

The assembled student body of Hogwarts was gathered on the lawn between the castle and the lake, enjoying the warmth of the sun in early June. Harry had finished his year of studies with Dumbledore and had been persuaded to give a short demonstration as a sort of concluding event, similar to a thesis.

The faculty was seated off to one side in the first row of chairs—Hagrid at one end taking up two chairs—and Sirius Black, Madam Rosmerta, and assorted Weasleys were seated in the second row. Mrs. Weasley, Fred, George, and Bill, who was home on a short vacation, had attended. Ron was conspicuously absent, but he and Harry's friendship had been rocky once he'd learned that Harry was seeing Hermione. Albus Dumbledore and Hermione stood next to Harry, talking before the demonstration began.

The three of them finished speaking, and Dumbledore stepped forward to address the student body while Hermione walked over and sat next to Mrs. Weasley.

"Good afternoon, Students, and I welcome you to this small exhibition. It comes to pass every few years that a graduate from Hogwarts School approaches me for a short apprenticeship. Over this last year, it has been my very great pleasure to have our own Harry Potter as an apprentice.

"Now most of you know Harry as he only graduated from Hogwarts last year. I must say, however, that Harry has been a joy to teach, and aside from his reputation from the attentions of a certain dark wizard, he has grown into an impressive wizard in his own right.

"Harry has graciously agreed to provide a short demonstration of Advanced Magic for your enjoyment, education, and, if we're lucky, a little motivation." There was an uncomfortable rustling among the students.

"Now, without further ado... Harry Potter." Dumbledore claimed his seat during the short applause, and Harry stepped forward and raised his wand.

A brief flash from the wand left a magnificent stag in its wake. Harry had avidly pursued the difficult animagus transformation, and it gratified him that his form was the same as his father's. Harry trotted around the area in front of the students while they applauded again.

He stopped in front of Ginny Weasley, and knelt onto the ground. He turned his head and tapped his back with one prong of his antlers, and Ginny nodded and tentatively climbed on and sat sidesaddle. Harry got to his feet and trotted around the clearing again, bouncing Ginny on his back while she screeched and laughed and the class applauded. Harry returned her to her spot by turning around and quickly sitting on his haunches, and Ginny slid off and landed indelicately on her derriere. The students erupted into laughter, and bright red, Ginny squeaked out little giggles.

Harry the stag trotted a short distance away and turned to face the students. The stag's body melted into the familiar man's form. He raised his wand, another bright flash erupted, and Harry seemed to shorten. His hair had also grown very long, and his robes were hanging oddly on his body. Placing the wand against his wizard robes, he spoke in a high, lilting voice that left no doubt as to the nature of the transformation.

"Evening-ay ess-dray." The pig Latin earned another round of laughs, but the students were spell-bound as the robes melted into a glittering, dark blue dress that hugged Harry's newly found and impressive curves. She sashayed up to Colin Creevey and sat in his lap. "'Ello, sailah!"

As the students cheered and roared in laughter, Professor Minerva McGonagall turned to Dumbledore. "Gender transform? That's as hard as the animagus transform but for entirely different reasons!"

"Actually," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling, "he came by that one rather naturally. The stag is what gave him the most trouble." He glanced at McGonagall's questioning stare. "I can only say that Harry has an... _interesting_ turn of mind on some matters."

"I see... How complete is it?"

"One-hundred percent. Poppy cast a few diagnostic spells, and they all turned up normal for a young woman. He could even, er, bear children... if he so chooses."

"I... _see_..."

Behind them, Sirius Black had his fist in his mouth, biting off laughter, while Rosmerta took the opportunity of his distraction to place a hand on his knee. Sirius jerked and turned to gawk at her, and she smiled coyly at him.

The Weasleys, however, had turned as a unit and were peering at a red-faced Hermione.

"Say, Fred."

"Yes, George?"

"Fancy learning to turn into a fly?"

"Got a bedroom wall in mind already, have you?"

"Indeed."

Staring at them with her mouth hanging open, Hermione said, "Now see here! We, er... That is to say, what we... It was... um..." Fred and George grinned mightily, and Hermione's hands flew to her mouth, realizing that her hesitation had just let the cat out of the bag.

WHAP! WHAP! Mrs. Weasley had applied her handbag rather forcefully to her twin sons. "What people do in the privacy of their own bedrooms is not your concern!!" She started, and then turned quickly to Hermione. "Oh, my. I didn't quite mean that the way it sounded, dear."

"I never knew our Hermione was such a goer," George quipped.

"Makes me rather sorry I didn't ask her out," Fred added.

WHAP-WHAP!

Hermione had her face in her hands, and in the faculty row, Professor Snape couldn't keep an amused sneer off of his face. The rest of the faculty managed to retain stoic demeanors, although it wasn't easy... All except for Hagrid, who guffawed loudly.

Everyone's attention returned to Harry as she climbed out of Colin Creevey's lap, after having giggled and squealed and generally made a spectacle of herself for about a minute. De-transforming to his normal state and reclaiming his wizard's robes, he peered down at the smallish seventh-year student.

"Now, if next time I see you, Colin, you ask me out for a night on the town and a roll in the hay, you and I are going to have a serious problem." The students laughed, and those nearest pounded on Colin's back.

Colin's younger brother, Dennis, could be heard shouting, "BRILLIANT! BRILLIANT!"

Tiny Professor Flitwick left his seat and trotted to meet Harry in the clearing. They conversed in hushed voices for a few seconds and then left in opposite directions. Starting well past the end of the faculty seats, Flitwick began placing stones roughly the size of a turkey egg on the ground every few feet. Likewise, Harry began doing the same some short distance beyond the end of the students seated on the grass. Both men worked inward to the same point.

Harry set the final stone, "Ready, Professor?" and proceeded to tap each stone he'd set with his wand, uttering a spell under his breath. Once two adjacent stones had been activated, a plane of distortion rose into the air as high as the trees of the Forbidden Forest and hung there for a few seconds before seeming to disappear. Moving back out to the outer stones, both men activated the entire line. After the wall had been completed, the two wizards pointed their wands at the audience and made a flood of sparks issue forth. The sparks hit an unseen wall and spread out, coloring the plane of air red. They walked inward, testing each panel of what was, for their purposes, a shield against magic to protect the audience, leaving only the empty parts of the grounds and the lake exposed. Harry tested the center panel, both men found themselves satisfied, and they moved to separate points about six meters apart.

Neither wizard moved for almost minute... until Flitwick twitched, and wands appeared in their hands as if they'd apparated there. "_Furnunculus!!_" Flitwick squeaked, and Harry almost simultaneously countered with, "_Expelliarmus!!_" The hex and the disarming spell met and ricocheted off one another. The hex for boils hit the barrier, causing a pus-color blotch to hang in thin air for a few seconds, while the disarming charm veered off into the lake.

It was now apparent to the gathered students and faculty not in-the-know that Harry had enlisted Professor Flitwick's help in a demonstration of hex and curse deflection. Because of his size and his interest in Charms, it was easy to dismiss Professor Flitwick as a wizard, and Harry had fallen into that same trap. It came as a shock to find out that the small man was one of the most magical persons Harry had ever known. Flitwick preferred precision, but he certainly had the magical muscle, if needed. Even Snape was known to grudgingly say respectful things about his colleague's abilities.

Flitwick cast several more hexes and curses, and Harry successfully countered them all, but Flitwick set himself, and Harry prepared for the hardest to block. It surprised him when it didn't come right away—

"_Furnunculus!!_"

"_Expelli—_"

"_CRUCIO!!!_"

"_CRUCIO!!!_" Harry had almost been caught off guard, and as it was, he felt stabs of pain in his feet. His deflected curse hit the barrier, and the entire magical construct turned blood red, crackled with energy like small red lightning, and groaned and wavered as if it were about to collapse. Flitwick's curse had been knocked into the ground, which absorbed it without fanfare. This had been planned, although Harry hadn't known where in the queue Flitwick was planning to use it. The Ministry had been informed that an Unforgiveable Curse would be used for demonstration purposes with the proper consent and forms from both participating parties, and the proper authorizations had been given. As he and Flitwick bowed to each other, Harry caught a glimpse of Hermione's face and knew he'd be hearing about this later. Voldemort had been around long enough for most people to become familiar with the Unforgiveables again, and the shock made the applause slow to build, but build it did. Flitwick trotted around the barrier, deactivating the stones and gathering them up. He waved merrily to the students as he worked.

Harry didn't help him because the exhibition was almost over, and he needed to muster his strength for the grand finale. He turned and faced the lake and the Forbidden Forest beyond it. He slowly raised his wand and pointed it at the puffy white clouds above the lake. "_Cumulae addendor majoris!_" he intoned in a low voice. Nothing happened for a second, and the students thought that maybe the spell had failed, but Harry remained in position, concentration lining his face. Flitwick had finished collecting the stones and reached his seat about the time that the wind began to strengthen.

All wizards have their magical affinities and interesting or special abilities, and Harry was no exception. He was, in fact, a study in unusual wizarding gifts. His infant meeting with Voldemort had imbued him with the ability to converse with snakes: Parseltongue. He was also adept at two forms of shapeshifting. Another rare gift of his, one he'd but only recently discovered, was weather control, and such wizards also had to be registered with the Ministry and kept track of. A strong weather magus could wreak havoc over an entire country.

The clouds directly over the lake lowered and thickened, and the sunlight was suddenly cut off as those of the puffier variety contiued to speed inwards on currents of wind that met, shunted downwards, and then moved out from the lake in all directions. The thunderhead continued to build, and a bolt of lightning seared the eyes as it struck the lake. There was a flop in the lake, and the resident giant squid bolted for safer parts, deep underwater.

Harry looked a little miffed at the premature electrical display, but he went on to shout, "_Elementor!_" Another bolt of lightning shot down. "_Elementor!_" Another. "_Elementor! Elementor!_" And two in rapid succession. He could barely hear the applause over the howling of the wind, but he gave little mind to it. Concentrating on the large thunderhead over the lake, he raised his wand again and pointed to his left.

"_Venturum helicus!_" He pointed at the center. "_Venturum helicus!_" And last to his right. "_Venturum helicus!_"

The bottom of the large cloud buckled and roiled, and after a moment, three points of rotation could be discerned, and they quickly extended into tornados. Since they had not yet picked up any debris, the funnels were only partially visible as they bent and turned and occasionally coiled around one another before striking the surface of the lake and sucking up water, turning them into waterspouts, which were very visible.

Harry let them rage across the lake for almost a minute before gesturing with his hands and wand and shouting, "_HELICAE COMBINUM!!!_" Almost as if they fought him, the tornados grudgingly met and joined into one huge funnel, sucking up more and more water. The huge coil roared like a hundred freight trains, and the students were nervously glancing between the display and the safety of the castle.

"I say!" McGonagall shouted over the din to Dumbledore. "This puts the shine on the apple! Hogwarts hasn't graduated a decent weather magus since 1833! Madam Maxime is going to be beside herself!"

Dumbledore smiled and nodded, not trusting his aged voice to be heard over the noise.

Harry had been slowly moving his arms along a clockwise circuit, holding the weather phenomenon in place, but he suddenly wrenched both hands and arms in a counterclockwise direction. The very air seemed to groan, which rose to a high-pitched squeal. There followed a thump that one felt rattle the bones rather than actually hear, and as the tornado burst apart, a shockwave traveled outward, gouging the surface of the lake, then whipping the grass flat, and finally bowling a few students over. A pall of mist hung over the lake as the shockwave, continuing upwards, pushed the thunderhead apart from the inside. The cloud cover dissipated and slowly returned to their previous puffy white forms.

However, Harry had not finished, and he had one hand thrust forward, his fingers working, while mumbling a complicated, repeating incantation. A rainbow had formed in the mist when the sun had shone through the breaking clouds, and the moisture that reflected the colorful atmospheric effect began to shift, long runners of mist moving and sparkling against the flat gray of the pall behind it. The runners grew in number and congregated in the area of the rainbow.

At this point, Harry began walking towards the seated attendees. He stopped next to Hermione, glanced at her and smiled, and the looked back to the pall of mist. Repeating the incantation a last time in a stronger voice, he closed his hand into a fist at the end, and the runners of water snapped into letters, the letters forming words, and the words forming sentences of a confession and a desire, arcing through the suspended droplets in a polychromatic display.

-

_Hermione. I love you. Marry me? Harry._

-

A few young girls squealed, but they were quickly silenced as a hush fell over the crowd. Hermione looked from Harry to the message in the mist, which was already beginning to dissipate, and back to Harry.

"Really?" she said softly.

"Really," he replied in kind.

Tears began spilling from her eyes, and she leapt from her seat and flung her arms around his neck. The audience had no trouble hearing her "YES!" through her sobs. A cheer broke out and roared over the grounds. Most of the women and girls were crying, and even some of the men and boys, although the boys would fight you if you called them on it later.

Harry and Hermione kissed, and then he twirled her around. The mist had turned to a light rain, and the return of the prevailing winds pushed the mass over the crowd. The two lovers minded not at all, and continued to kiss as they were in turn kissed by softly falling drops of water.

Sniffling and thankful that the rain was covering her own tears, Minerva McGonagall turned to Albus Dumbledore one final time for the day. "How are we going to top this next year, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore groaned. "I'll leave it to you, Minerva."

"No, thank you, Headmaster..."

**FIN**

* * *

Author's (old) notes: 

I don't typically write outside of anime and manga fanfiction, but I was introduced to the Harry Potter novels some months ago and was delighted by them. Of course, as soon as Ms. Rowling produces the fifth novel, this fanfiction and most others will probably be rendered null and void, but perhaps a significant enough number of fan works will continue to stand on their own merits.


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